


The Road Ahead

by Oliver__Niko



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Light Angst, M/M, Rated for final scene, Road Trips, Romance, Second Chances, Sexual Content, Top Sylvain Jose Gautier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:02:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27046912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oliver__Niko/pseuds/Oliver__Niko
Summary: Four years ago, Felix vanished without a trace, all but for a single note sent weeks later. Sylvain has been moving on little by little, although his childhood friend never leaves his mind completely.In order to take some time for himself, he leaves on a long road trip, and it appears as though fate hasn't stopped bringing them together just yet.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 7
Kudos: 75





	The Road Ahead

**Author's Note:**

> I had such a blast working on this fanfic for a supporter of mine, and I hope that shows. Please do enjoy!

For someone whose life had once been in another’s hands, never able to make decisions for himself, Sylvain has been tempted to over-prepare for this. His eyes land on the rucksack at the end of his bed. Sure, spare clothes are inside, but for the journey he’s about to take … Yeah, this is definitely packing lightly.

It’s such a tiny thing. Simply preparing a single bag as opposed to a whole suitcase, that is. Yet it still makes him feel as though he has less weight on his shoulders. He wonders if Felix had felt similarly, back then. Although it’s impossible for Sylvain to know if Felix had taken  _ any  _ luggage, or if he had crammed whatever he could fit into his pockets.

An exhale leaves Sylvain’s lips as he zips up the bag. This isn’t the same room he had shared with Felix. None of them could live in the same space, since he left; every corner of their old apartment seemed to hold a memory of him. Even so, as Sylvain inspects the room around him, it’s as though his mind fills the blanks. Felix’s favourite books lined alongside Sylvain’s. Leaning at the windowsill, smiling as Sylvain’s arms loop beneath his and bring him closer from behind. And the bed … Every aspect of the one Sylvain has now is different. New bed frame, mattress, headboard, covers. Even so, there are some moments where he looks at that bed and countless memories follow. How they’d laugh as they playfully fought with one another. Greeted by morning sunshine as they laid in each other’s arms, and all those times of intimacy, of intertwined limbs, songs of pleasure and love whilst none of the world could touch them.

Sylvain throws the rucksack over his shoulder. It’s already been years, and there are some days he does not dwell on this at all. Perhaps there are simply too many similarities for his brain to do anything, other than compare this way.

He opens the door and heads down the stairs. His ears pick up the sound of their television, and he knows that it’s likely for background noise whilst Dimitri and Ingrid try not to dwell in anxiety. Since time has passed, Sylvain has grown to understand Felix even more than he had back then, and knows he didn’t mean to hurt any of them. Sylvain still, however, refuses to do the same as he did. He won’t give Dimitri and Ingrid a reason to cry.

His suspicions are confirmed when he hovers in the doorway and his friends’ eyes fall on him. Immediately, Dimitri and Ingrid are on their feet, hurrying over to him. He smiles as they both take him into a hug simultaneously.

“ This really is a temporary thing?” asks Ingrid. “Don’t go running off on us, now.”

Sylvain, his smile strained, shakes his head. “I promise. I’ll be a while—got to make the most of quitting my job, right? But that’s all. Just a while.”

“ Enbarr truly is far away,” says Dimitri, backing away from the hug with Ingrid. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

“ That’s what road trips are about, aren’t they? Crazily long adventures?” Sylvain jokes.

“ Still. You have to go there  _ and  _ back.”

“ And I have plenty of money for it. No worries.” Sylvain pats the rucksack on his back. “Travelling light too, so I’ll get you plenty of souvenirs!”

Ingrid lets out a groan. “Don’t do that. Last time you did, you got us sweets in the shape of breasts and penises.”

“ You say that like it’s a bad thing. But fine, fine. No dick-shaped candy, I promise.”

It almost feels like goodbye, as the three of them step outside. Goodbyes aren’t fitting for something that is only temporary. The one who should have considered this was Felix, but he seemed to have lost that memo, and Sylvain isn’t sure if Ingrid in particular has forgiven him yet.

Sylvain doesn’t know if he has anything to forgive. All he has is disappointment and longing. As he heads closer to his car, the thoughts of that time seem to be weighing down heavier on all of them.

“ If you vanish on us, I won’t forgive you,” says Ingrid. “Give us a call when you reach the border at least, okay?”

“ Do not forget to stay hydrated, either,” Dimitri adds. This causes Sylvain to laugh.

“ I’m older than  _ both  _ of you, yet it feels like you’re my parents! But I will, to both of those.”

Dimitri smiles in amusement, although it fades as he adds, “And … Well, it would be reassuring for you to say, one last time, that you are not heading out there to search for Felix. We already spent enough time doing that, before  _ and  _ after we finally heard something from him, and—well, it would do you nothing but harm to focus on that.”

Sylvain shakes his head. He knows why he is being told this. All three of them had searched in those early days, and there were plenty of times Sylvain had to be convinced to not go driving all over the continent, in case Felix had already managed to reach that far. If Sylvain had made this trip sooner, he would be considering this plenty. But not now. Not all this time later, and it’s clear that everything from the past is over.

“ Just a little trip to clear my head, after what’s been going on with my family,” says Sylvain. “Nothing more. Me, some beer when I visit Zanado, and,” his hand pats the side of his car, “Miss Honey and I spending quality time together.”

“ Miss Honey,” Ingrid echoes, shaking her head with a slight smile. “I will never get over that name.”

“ I spent many of my years wanting to bang her.” Sylvain pauses, lifting a finger in the air. “The teacher. Not the car. I’m not  _ that  _ horny.”

“ Just get in the damn thing, Sylvain.”

“ Uh, I just said I’m not horny enough for that!”

Lots of laughter later, Sylvain sits in the driver’s seat, window rolled down with his arm leaning by it. His expression softens, when he notices how both of them appear to be holding back tears. “Hey. Remember, everything I’ve promised here is the complete truth. I’ll be back.”

“ Yes, you will,” says Dimitri. His voice and face alike seem to grow warmer, a smile stretching on his face. “Away from all our worrying and pestering you, we also want you to enjoy yourself, Sylvain. After all you have had to endure, some time away is what you deserve.”

“ Stay safe, have fun, and take care of yourself,” Ingrid adds.

Sylvain smiles back at them. Goddess, even  _ he _ is beginning to choke up a little, despite how much he has reassured them that this isn’t goodbye. Perhaps it’s because the three of them have not been separated for more than a couple of weeks, for … Well, perhaps it says a great deal that Sylvain cannot remember the precise number.

But he needs this. And so, they exchange their final farewells, waving through the car windows to each other as Sylvain starts his engine and drives away.

His journey begins.

* * *

Despite the difficulty of his temporary goodbye, Sylvain is … thriving, he would say. More than he has in a long time. The air blowing against his face through the car window is refreshing. The ridiculously large range of music he enjoys, all the way from opera to Britney Spears to heavy metal, keeps him company as his eyes flicker to the wilderness of Faerghus. Stretches and stretches of green grass, of distant mountains, and a sky which is now greeted by the first warm colours of a sunset.

It’s freedom at its finest. Sylvain has taken long drives before, urged on by this very reason—simply never to this extent. He will be choosing a purposefully longer route down to Enbarr, to make the most of the sights along the way. Chains have not bound his limbs for a long time, although the remaining essence of them will not disappear without him truly exploring life without them.

He checks the GPS, which tells him a motel is not too far away; merely another forty minutes. It seems pointless to travel past it and search for the next one, meaning he has time to spare before he checks in. Might as well make the most of the scenery.

Miss Honey, running as perfectly for him as she always does, drives off the road and towards the nature beyond. He stops some distance away, unfastening his seatbelt. Movements halt when his eyes flicker to the dashboard. Despite how he probably shouldn’t be dwelling on this when he is attempting to chase a sense of freedom, he takes the photograph resting by the front window, before getting out of the car and shutting the door after him.

His eyes glance around him, making sure there is no one around, although the area is scarce. He imagines travellers aren’t as common during the month of the Wyvern Moon. It’s amusing in a sense, as harsher temperatures already begin to sweep over Faerghus, and others would do well to rush down to Adrestia for warmer temperatures … Not that this is the reason Sylvain is going, when growing up in the north means he’s more than used to the cold anyway.

It’s pleasant, if anything, his head lifting whilst he walks across the plains. His eyes close briefly over the coolness of late afternoon. At this time of year, sunsets seem to start and end quickly, but if he doesn’t dawdle, he should have a fantastic view for watching the sunset.

His steps take him up a slope, bringing him higher, higher, until he is on a stretch of land overseeing the sight in front of him. He lets out a low whistle. Stretches of grass, trees with leaves the colour of autumn, a waterfall in the distance—sometimes, he forgets that this chilly region can even hold such nature.

One can forget colder temperatures when they see the warmth of the sunset, spreading its colours across the land. It’s a perfect example of golden hour. He settles himself on the ground, placing his rucksack next to him, before he pulls out a spicy chicken wrap he bought earlier. A generous bite is taken as his eyes remain fixed on that beautiful sky.

Once they take in all there is to offer and his food is settling nicely in his stomach, Sylvain contemplates his options. He first takes a photo of the view on his phone. It’s sent to the group chat he shares with Ingrid and Dimitri, captioned with, ‘ _ About to stop at my first motel. Look at this view!’ _

As he awaits a response (which he imagines will arrive quickly), his camera is taken out from his rucksack. Perhaps one might deem it silly to prioritise this over extra clothes or food, but there is no way at all he can travel so far, and not have something proper to show of it. 

_ Click, click.  _ He is more generous with how many pictures he takes here, varying the angles and, with a smile, even sneaks in a shot of a squirrel he notices nearby, gathering its food for winter.

He returns to his phone and finds their responses.

**Ingrid**

_ Oh, that is beautiful. I hope you’re getting pictures on your camera, too. And nice one for actually getting a connection out there! _

**Dimitri**

_ Truly magnificent! Sometimes, it is easy to forget we have such beautiful nature so close to us, right on our doorstep. _

Sylvain, of course, replies to both of them, before his thoughts wander, and he cannot resist reaching for the photograph in his pocket. The remaining rays of sunshine shine down on the two figures inside it. Sylvain, bearing teeth in a wide smile, with his arm wrapped around a smaller man: someone with dark hair pulled back into a bun, eyebrows arched in annoyance.

A sad smile reaches Sylvain’s face. He leans back with his other hand on the ground, thumb tracing over the glossy paper. Four years. Somehow, it feels as though far more time than this has passed, whilst simultaneously, all those days of tears, of betrayal, seem as though they were not long ago at all. Perhaps it’s because those memories are still vivid in his mind.

Sylvain, as he has done so many times before, flips the photograph over. There is handwriting in black ink on the back. A little messy, as though the writer had been in a rush. Perhaps the cause of that speed was because he started crying, if Sylvain is correct in the assumption that the little spot of smeared ink, a circular shape on the bottom of the paragraph, is from a tear.

_ I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I’m sorry I left at all. It’s too much to stay there, with any of you. I can’t see them again. _

_ I love you, Sylvain. Always. But don’t come after me. _

_ \--Felix _

Sylvain had broken that single request in an instant. Had already done so before receiving this in the post, even. This arrived two weeks after Felix had already gone, and of course Sylvain would search, and search, if he were to wake one day and Felix had not answered any calls, was nowhere to be seen, and Sylvain’s mind had arrived at the worst possibilities in an instant.

Kidnapped, murdered. Perhaps suicide. Of course when Felix vanished without a trace, this is what Sylvain’s mind instantly went to—especially when Felix was at the lowest Sylvain had ever seen him. Knowing he had been alive helped, but it couldn’t do so completely.

After all, Sylvain had loved him, and still, he left.

If he said there wasn’t a small part of him still searching, he would be lying to himself. This road trip isn’t about that. But even after all these years, and Sylvain has slept with others—it’s not cheating, after all, when nothing says  _ “I’m breaking up with you,”  _ than vanishing without a word—his heart still yearns for the guy he loved, and perhaps  _ still _ loves, more than anyone else.

Bonds formed throughout entire lives cannot break overnight. An unlikely love found between the two of them cannot be erased by mere acceptance. Sylvain has mostly moved on, he would say. But the strength of his emotions for Felix, the lack of closure, makes everything still weigh down on his heart. Some days it’s lighter, some days heavier. But it’s often there either way.

Perhaps, in reality, he might not ever stop yearning, and have a single thought remain in his mind:  _ there’s no end to the lengths I’ll go to, in order to find him again. _

And there isn’t. But he also knows this isn’t some romance novel, that by now, Felix could be anywhere on the continent, even the entire world, and to search every inch of it isn’t possible. He can hold his heart out for a reunion, hunt high and low during his travels, but he knows that dreaming of a fairytale ending could leave him in shambles.

Still, as his eyes drift to the sunset which fades into night, he remembers his first kiss with Felix, beneath a sky exactly like this one. He remembers the man’s face, wondering what has changed. Felix seemed to stop changing much past the age of seventeen. Not a single centimetre in height, face only maturing a small amount. So between the ages of twenty-one and twenty-five, Sylvain doubts much more has changed.

Even so, Sylvain finds himself daydreaming when his eyes continue to watch the scenery. Of fingers running through long hair, of lips kissing every little mole on Felix’s skin. Of paradise.

* * *

This man doesn’t remain permanently fixed on Sylvain’s mind. No matter the similarities to the past, this journey truly is for Sylvain alone. He’s needed this. The further he travels, the more sights he sees, the more he feels himself loosen, enough to sometimes shed tears when he settles down by landscapes before him.

That’s a good thing, he reckons. It’s not as though he cries often. Not like Felix did when they were young.

Two weeks have passed now, and after a number of detours, Sylvain is finally in Adrestia. Ingrid and Dimitri seem far more relaxed about his travels now he is clearly benefiting from them. They encourage him, if anything, telling him to not rush himself in order to come back home for them.

“ _ We know you won’t ever lose contact with us,” _ says Ingrid, the phone held to Sylvain’s ear as he relaxes back against the hood of his car.  _ “So don’t worry if you do end up taking a bit longer than a month. I think you have really needed this.” _

“ _ For certain,”  _ Dimitri adds—the phone is on speaker on their end, allowing Sylvain to hear both at once.  _ “You do seem to sound a bit more … alive, as though this is helping to refresh you.” _

Sylvain hums. His eyes flicker up, smiling when he watches a dog run around its owner, who has clearly come to this area of the countryside for a long walk. “It is, definitely. Even when I’m in the city, I feel like there’s so much  _ space  _ around me. Like I’m actually free, you know? Doing what I like, going where I want … I’m sure I’ll want to come home eventually, but for now, I’m enjoying it.”

“ _ Honestly, I swear a part of me is a little jealous,”  _ says Ingrid, chuckling.  _ “Maybe not for such a long road trip. But sometime in the future, the three of us should definitely go on a smaller one together.” _

“ _ Oh yes, I agree. That would be lovely,”  _ says Dimitri.

“ Agreed.” Sylvain's smile falters slightly when he recalls how ‘the three of us’ had once been ‘four’, but he is grateful to have this pair at all. “You’re both my best friends. I want to spend as much time with you as I can, once I get home.”

Perhaps that is another benefit of his travels; being able to appreciate what he usually might take for granted. Sure, this journey is  _ definitely  _ benefiting him, and he wouldn’t change what he has done for a moment. But he does miss them. He realises how wonderful it had been, to walk into the kitchen each day and see Ingrid there with a huge mouthful of breakfast, or to hear Dimitri groan in the distance over breaking something else with his clumsiness.

All those little things, hard to miss until you separate yourself from them—only this time, it is willingly.

His journey continues on. As a lover of the city, he does pop into them occasionally, however he mostly sticks to his routes through the countryside. There is something fascinating about how widespread life is. How there are so many places, so many people, that there is no possible way to see it all. The thought is disappointing, in a sense. But it’s also exciting to know how much there is to explore.

Today, Sylvain heads out of his motel room, realising he might have never seen the faces here, had he chosen to stay at a different place. How the person sitting at the reception desk, who nods at him, is yet another person he might only see once.

So many meetings are fleeting, yet even so, there is still a certain pair of eyes never leaving his mind, no matter how much he tries to flee them on a soul-searching journey.

This morning, he decides to check out a diner right by the motel, before he heads on his way. Surprisingly enough, these diners often have the most delicious food he has tasted. He plans to drive over a fair distance, so a filling breakfast to begin his day is vital.

He smiles once he enters the diner. It appears as though locals also venture here for breakfast. A woman behind the counter meets his eyes, quick to smile back. Ah, that’s another great thing about road trips. So many pretty people. And that warm expression, chin-length blonde hair, are most certainly what he considers pretty.

“ Please excuse me. Someone will be with you shortly,” she says, before heading out to the back. Sylvain walks forward, settling down on a stool in front of the counter. His gaze drops down to a worker crouched on the floor, looking for something in a cabinet.

He’s shameless, and his eyes first drop on the poor person’s backside, before this side to him fades. It’s replaced with the same sadness that always falls on him, when he sees anyone with dark hair resembling  _ his. _

“ Just a moment.” 

A voice which causes Sylvain’s heart to stop entirely. It’s similar, much too similar, and his mind is without a single thought, other than a name.

“ Felix?”

The man freezes. Rises to his feet, turns. And it’s him.

Out in the middle of nowhere, in some random diner, are those mesmerising copper eyes Sylvain knows so well, and a face which hasn’t changed a single amount. Those lips that Sylvain has kissed and kissed, over and over, open slightly in surprise.

Sylvain’s mouth is opening too, ready to say something,  _ anything, _ but he has no chance to do so before Felix becomes a blur and has taken off to the side.

“ W-wait, Felix!”

The stool is knocked over as Sylvain scrambles to his feet. Several people have glanced over, but Sylvain cannot take a moment to look back at them. Felix has always been ridiculously fast, faster than Sylvain, but he’s heading to the door beyond that counter, and if Sylvain goes through the front way … Well. He’ll see. Felix is a goddamn bullet.

Sylvain bursts outside, sprinting around the building. Bingo. Felix skids to a stop. Sharp breaths, hairs standing on the top of his head—they cross over it now, in some sort of style that Sylvain could not replicate if he tried—and eyes wide as they stare back at Sylvain.

“ Felix,” says Sylvain, and he cannot stop his smile, despite everything. “It’s you. It’s really you.”

Though Felix is silent, Sylvain would take that over him not running away, even if it’s possibly because he’s merely frozen to the spot. He stares and stares, a tongue running around his lips.

His voice is slightly weak when he finally says, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“ _ Me?  _ What about you?”

“ I work here.”

“ Well, yes, I can see that.” Sylvain gestures to Felix’s uniform. “But when? How, why?”

“ And you? Don’t tell me you’ve ran away or something.”

“ Of course not. That’s your thing, isn’t it?”

Silence. Perhaps those words were too harsh, but alongside Sylvain’s relief, his joy, is undeniable anger. Understanding Felix’s actions doesn’t mean he has to like them. Not for a single second.

And if that guilt twisting on Felix’s face is anything to go by, he isn’t a fan of his own actions, either.

Finally, he says, his voice quiet, “I … I suppose you want to talk.”

“ I mean, yeah, I would.” Sylvain swallows, taking a moment to pause when his voice cracks—he doesn’t want to cry, not here. “But I wonder if you deem it too late to do that.”

Felix shakes his head. “I wanted to get back in touch. I just … couldn’t.” His eyes flicker back to the diner. “I can’t keep Mercedes there on her own. Do you …?”

His words drift off. He’s never been the best at voicing his emotions and thoughts, not when it’s something like this. Sylvain supposes there are certain things which never change.

“ I do. I really, really do. When does your shift end?”

“ 4:00. Then it switches to someone else.”

“ Meet me over there after it ends, then.” Sylvain points to the motel across the street. “I’ll wait for you outside, then we can talk.”

Felix nods slowly. His slightly hunched posture, fingernails digging into his palms, suggest he is anxious. Sylvain imagines it’s not exactly a normal thing, having your ex pop out from nowhere. His own heart is racing.

“ I love your hair, by the way,” says Sylvain, ensuring that his voice is a little gentler at last. “It suits you.”

Though it is shaky, though his bottom lip quivers, Felix manages a smile.

* * *

Sylvain has to be honest with himself: he doesn’t have the highest hopes that Felix will actually come and see him.

He feels somewhat guilty over feeling this way. In reality, however, he cannot expect himself to trust Felix completely. Not after that. Sylvain has had moments of being too forgiving in the past, but not anymore. Felix was one of the people who helped give him a push to move on from that.

Still. Sylvain leans back against a low wall outside the motel, tapping his foot alongside the music in his headphones as a method to calm himself. He’s willing to see how this plays out. Even if he can form his own opinions and guess why Felix did this, he cannot know the full details, Felix’s true mindset, until the two actually talk.

He reaches for his headphones, lifting them from his head with a chest filled with relief, when he sees Felix making his way over.

“ So you decided to come,” says Sylvain.

“ Well, if you managed to somehow find me in this tiny town, in the middle of nowhere,” says Felix, “you’d probably be able to hunt down where I live, or something.”

Sylvain cannot stop a grin. “All coincidental, I swear. You seem a bit calmer now.”

Felix hums. “If I’m honest, my heart is racing. But Mercedes helped me to calm down.” His hand rubs the back of his neck. “She’s, uh, she’s the worker you saw. She’s a good friend.”

“ I’m glad that you’ve managed to meet people, all the way out here.” Sylvain gestures his hand towards the motel. “Shall we go to my room? For pure conversational purposes, not to fuck.”

“ The fact that you bring up fucking at all is worrying.”

Regardless, there’s a slight smile on Felix’s face as he follows Sylvain. They head up the stairs towards the room silently. There is so much to say that small talk is impossible—not that Felix has ever been one to like it, anyway.

Sylvain opens the door, and just as he wonders if Felix will change his mind, the latter walks inside, Sylvain following him.

“ Not bad, for a motel,” says Felix, eyes glancing around the room.

“ Nah. Some movies really play on them being grosser than they are, don’t they? Not that I haven’t had a lot of cases of finding suspicious looking stains.” Sylvain kicks off his shoes. “Make yourself at home.”

There’s a snort from Felix, which is understandable. The place might not be gross, but it’s still  _ far  _ from the decent house he now lives in with Ingrid and Dimitri. Not that Felix would know about the nice place his childhood friends have landed themselves with.

They sit down on the bed. Felix noticeably does so on the end of it. He’s always liked doing that when he’s on edge, as though comforted by the idea that he can take off any moment.

But he doesn’t seem to plan on doing that. His head is bowed, and his hands hold onto the bed covers, and he has this air around him that screams how much he wants to try and stay, this time.

“ Felix—”

“ So what  _ are  _ you doing here?” Felix asks first. “I know it’s probably wrong of me to ask about that first, before we talk about … what happened. But you know, I had a near heart attack hearing your voice.”

Sylvain chuckles lightly. “As I did with yours. But I’m only on a road trip. Not running away from anything.”

“ I see. You have this air that’s … I don’t know. It’s as though you have been out here for some time, just driving and driving.”

“ Well, yeah. That part is true. It’s already been four weeks since I left home. But it’s only a lengthy trip, nothing more. I needed to get away from everything.”

Felix’s head finally lifts. Teeth catch his lip, and the guilt swelling inside him is obvious. “Like what happened with me.”

There’s no use in lying. “That’s one of the things weighing on me all this time. But it wasn’t the cause of me jumping up and travelling across the continent. That would be something else.” Eyes inspect him, concern flickering in them, and despite how much Felix has hidden from Sylvain, the latter doesn’t want to do the same back. “I got into a fight with Miklan.”

Anger mingles with that concern. “What happened? Specifically?”

“ It was a big one. Me fighting back too, like you always told me to do. Proud to say that I broke his nose  _ and  _ probably something else.” Sylvain chuckles without humour, a hand running through his hair. “But he was drunk, as Miklan so often was, and he ended up pulling a knife on me.”

“ Holy shit.” Felix’s gaze flickers up and down Sylvain. “Did he—”

“ Nah, he didn’t actually get me. Tried to. But yeah, I had enough, and I reported all of his bullshit at last. Had a lot of proof, thanks to how you guys helped me out.” Sylvain breathes out, able to talk about this far easier now than two years ago, when describing it all to the police and his therapist—who, unlike many other therapists Sylvain has seen, is actually decent. “He actually pleaded guilty.  _ Seemed  _ literally guilty, too. Maybe he could be a better person if he sobered up, who knows? Either way, he’s out of my life now. For good.”

A silence falls. Felix’s gaze drops away, brow furrowed. “I imagine dealing with all that after me, just gave you this feeling to … escape, I suppose. Take some time to be free.”

“ Yeah. Exactly. Simply get away.”

He nods slowly. Voice pained as he says, “I … I’m sorry I wasn’t there, Sylvain.”

“ Would have been much better, yeah.” Sylvain pauses. He doesn’t want to rip Felix a new one, not when his actions were not done out of hatred, or malice against Sylvain. It’s simply something he knows he cannot let go. “Felix, you—it was terrifying, that you got up and left.”

“ I can imagine.”

“ Not a single word, until you sent that photo. Why couldn’t you have at least told us?”

Felix’s eyes close, hair hanging over his face. His chest rises with a deep inhale. In, out, as the two have always told each other. “It’s not an excuse, I know. But I wasn’t thinking straight. I just needed to get out of there.” His hands come together, fingers intertwined so tightly, the already pale skin over his knuckles grows even whiter. “You were the only one who didn’t make me feel worse over Glenn’s death. I don’t mean to insult Dimitri and Ingrid by saying that. But … but none of them helped, at all. Glorifying his death, comparing me to him, I just—I snapped.”

“ You could have spoken to me,” says Sylvain, those feelings of betrayal anew in his chest. “I could have helped.”

“ I know. And trust me, it wasn’t long before I regretted not simply speaking to you. In the moment, I simply saw vanishing as my only option to escape, as  _ everything  _ reminded me of Glenn.” Felix finally brings his head up again. When he does, Sylvain sees a damp line down Felix’s cheek from a single, fallen tear. “I’m sorry, Sylvain.”

Sylvain swallows. His chest is growing tighter, practically on the verge of bursting—it feels as though his emotions, everything he has felt for years, are swelling inside, ready to erupt. “I understand how you felt, really. It just hurt a lot. I mean, the thoughts I went through. You can’t even drive, can you?”

Felix shakes his head. “I hitch-hiked.”

“ Felix …” Despite everything, Sylvain leans in a little closer. “That’s dangerous as fuck.”

“ Uh-huh. It really was.” Those specific words cause Sylvain’s heart to race a little faster, although he waits, because he’s always been able to tell when Felix wants to say more, and is simply gathering his words. “The first time was fine, and the second. Third time, an asshole tried taking advantage of me, and I only managed to get away by leaving my belongings behind, except for some change in my pocket. He had a knife, you see, and mine was out of reach.”

Sylvain’s eyes grow wide, fury—directed at someone else, other than Felix—igniting in his chest. “Goddess, I want to kill that bastard. I’m sorry.”

The shrug of Felix’s shoulders contradicts the pain in his expression. “I mean, like you said, hitch-hiking can be dangerous, right? Anyway, I lost my phone at that point, just as I was thinking of calling you and apologising for everything. Then I got picked up by Mercedes and her brother, which was quite the miracle, and after that … Well, enough time had passed for me to be too afraid to call you.”

“ You could have done so at any time, honestly,” says Sylvain. He scratches the back of his head. “I swear, for that first year, I hadn’t been able to have a single day go by without thinking of you. I just wanted to know if you were okay.”

“ I wasn’t, at first. But I survived, as you can see.” Felix averts his gaze again, staring down at the hands in his lap. “I’m sorry, Sylvain. I truly am. It was selfish, it was stupid, and it was the coward’s way out. I’m ashamed of it even now.”

Sylvain manages a smile, reaching over to place a hand on Felix’s shoulder. He tenses slightly, but only for a moment. “I’d be lying if I said I could forgive this in an instant, but … I understood, really. Glenn’s death was awful, and Dimitri and Ingrid are apologetic for how they treated it. As is your father.”

“ Well … I’m glad they’re apologetic, at least.” Felix leans slightly closer to Sylvain, towards that touch on his shoulder. “But you’re the one I’ve missed the most. I never wanted to leave you. Though I guess it’s far, far too late to start over.”

It should be. Sylvain should never be able to trust Felix again. And, even after all he has been told, Sylvain struggles to do so completely. But he’d be lying if he said his heart wasn’t doing somersaults, over being by Felix’s side again. How much he has yearned to hear his voice, how he is still, to Sylvain, the most beautiful person to exist.

He’s missed absolutely everything there is to Felix. And, even after four years, it feels like little has changed, other than this new wall between them.

“ I don’t know what there is to say about starting over,” Sylvain says at last. “But I do know that I want to kiss you right now.”

Felix’s eyes meet Sylvain’s again. Down to his lips, back up again. The slightest lick of his own lip. Steadily, he nods, and Sylvain leans in to kiss him.

In an instant, Sylvain wonders how he has ever survived life without those lips. They somehow feel even more wonderful than they did before. He cannot resist a smile into the kiss as his hands cup Felix’s cheeks. The latter moves closer in response, hands uncertain on what to do with themselves, hovering by Sylvain. It’s understandable. So,  _ so _ much time has passed, even if to Sylvain, his years of waiting almost feel as though they were worth it.

Sylvain breaks it, long enough to ask, “Okay?”

A nod, even though another tear trickles down Felix’s cheek. “I’ve missed you,” is his reply, before he is the one to continue their kiss.

This time, Sylvain hands are on Felix’s waist to bring him closer, the latter’s arms wrapping around Sylvain’s neck. So he still clings, apparently. Only there is an increase in the amount of desperation in his grip, as though never wanting to let go again.

Sylvain doesn’t want to, either.

His hands creep up beneath Felix’s shirt, feeling a slight shiver, despite the warmth of Sylvain’s hands. The kiss breaks again. Felix leans his forehead against Sylvain’s, touch trailing over his chest with a quiet sigh, as Sylvain’s own reaches up over the skin of Felix’s waist beneath the shirt.

“ You’re not the only one who constantly thought of this,” says Felix, voice barely above a whisper. “I—I mean it, Sylvain. I missed you more than anything. I wish I had done things differently.”

Sylvain swallows. His head lifts, allowing him to brush his lips on Felix’s forehead. “I guess there’s not much use in focusing on the past anymore. Not when we can finally feel each other like this.”

A hum of agreement is enough to encourage Sylvain to continue. This time, when his lips find Felix’s again, his tongue slips inside and earns a muffled moan from the other.

Goddess. Sylvain has not felt anything like this in a long time. Not since the two of them had shared this touch, this sense of intimacy, and they basked in the love they shared. Nothing has been the same since then. No one Sylvain has dared to touch instead has felt the same as Felix, brought on the same electric sparks at his fingertips.

No one is Felix. That’s all there is to it, and Sylvain wonders how he would have ever moved on completely, had fate not rejoined them today.

But there’s no use in thinking of that.

The kiss continues, hands exploring every inch of one another. It’s barely even sexual. They simply want to reach out, drown in what had once been lost, draw out maps on each other’s bodies—they navigate their way seamlessly, as though that time had never passed.

When Sylvain’s burst of yearning grows stronger, and his hands have pushed Felix down onto the bed, he feels a tear fall down his own face.

He smiles, however, over the thumb that reaches up to wipe it away. Even though Felix had once betrayed him, he still knows Sylvain perfectly, and understands that he should not mention it, when the talk of what has transpired is already behind them.

“ I thought you said this was for purely conversational purposes,” says Felix, “and not to fuck.”

Sylvain lets out a laugh, his fingers slipping through strands of Felix’s hair—the ponytail is far less in place after his shift at work and their kissing, although that messiness is all the more beautiful to Sylvain. “Well, all we did was make out, and I pushed you onto the bed. I’m not the one who said we’re fucking, here.”

“ Well, yes, but—be quiet.” Felix hands hold on the back of Sylvain’s head, his voice dropping in volume. “I know what that look in your eyes means.”

He can’t exactly deny it. There are so many more important things to consider in his reunion with Felix. Sex is the last to be on his mind, after the sheer amount of emotion arisen from the two finally being together again. But perhaps there is a part of him desperate to feel Felix’s warmth, exactly as he used to, and remember all he has missed.

And okay, yes. Felix looks really cute with that damn hairstyle, and even cuter underneath Sylvain, and the latter is utterly shameless with how much of a horny bastard he is.

“ Okay, I  _ might  _ be imagining that. Maybe.” Sylvain nuzzles into the side of Felix’s neck, grinning against the skin. “But I assure you that it all has emotion, meaning, driven from the most wonderful parts of my—”

“ Shut the fuck up and kiss me, Syl.”

“ Yeah. That seems like a good option.”

He does so. And he hadn’t been lying. His heart is leaping straight out of his chest, as his hands run up either side of Felix’s waist beneath his shirt. Right over his back, smiling into the kiss as Felix reacts as he always does, when Sylvain’s touch reaches his spine; he jumps slightly, pressing himself closer when Sylvain’s hands lower and squeeze at his backside.

Felix breaks from the kiss, resting his forehead against Sylvain’s shoulder. “Is this really okay?” Sylvain asks. “I mean, we’ve only just seen each other again.”

“ Yeah. It’s kind of crazy. But I think I just want to feel you.”

“ Mm. Same with you, Felix.”

Their motions pass by in a near blur. How Felix’s hands tremble when unfastening the buttons of Sylvain’s shirt, and calm again when a kiss is placed down onto either of them. The snort as Felix’s T-shirt gets stuck halfway. Discarded trousers, leaving the two in their underwear, laid side-by-side as they continue to hold onto one another, lips back together in harmony.

Sylvain curses himself for ever kissing someone else, even if he hadn’t known this would ever be possible.

Or perhaps a part of him did. That sappy, romantic side of him which believes that no matter what, his path will always intertwine with Felix’s.

“ I wonder, baby,” says Sylvain, pressing a kiss on Felix’s chest with a grin, eyes fixed up at his face, “if you’re as sensitive as you were before.”

“ Do you have to tease me already?” Felix says, letting out a sigh.

“ Sorry, sorry. You’re simply too cute to resist teasing, you know that.” There’s a jolt of Felix’s body at the tongue lapping over a nipple, which answers Sylvain’s question immediately. “I was wrong—you seem that bit  _ more  _ sensitive, after all this time. I wonder why?”

With a roll of Felix’s eyes, he says, “Isn’t that obvious? I—I’ve touched myself when masturbating, sure, but it’s been  _ years.  _ I’m not really as adjusted to this as before.”

Hold on. Sylvain straightens up, staring down at Felix. “You’ve really not slept with anyone, all this time?”

“ No. Like I said, I regretted what I did and missed you, and you know that I’ve never been sexually attracted to many people. So sleeping with others never felt right.”

Appreciation and guilt wash over Sylvain all at once. “You—you really did miss me then, huh?” He lets out a humourless chuckle. “Makes me feel awful.”

A temporary silence falls, Felix’s eyes scanning him. He doesn’t sound mad, or even disappointed, when he states, “You weren’t the same.”

“ I mean, I was emotionally, with how much I missed you. But … Well, you know me.” Sylvain scratches the back of his head, avoiding Felix’s eyes. He might know that he hadn’t cheated, and Felix would understand this too, but even so … He cannot help that little flicker of shame. “I sleep with people when I want to cope with things. Kinda my thing. Although this was more of an attempt to move on.”

“ I get that. You’re different to me, and that’s fine.” Felix chuckles, now sitting up himself. “Although I have to admit I’m a little jealous, even though I know you don’t like jealousy.”

“ Yeah … even though I’d  _ definitely  _ be jealous myself. I’m a hypocrite.” Sylvain’s hands tread over Felix’s hips, fingers taking hold of the waistband of his boxers. “Will I make it up to you by fucking you  _ far  _ better than I fucked any of them?”

“ Mm. Maybe.” Felix’s amused smile fades. “Though it’s not as though I have any right to judge you, nor expect things from you.”

“ Eh, maybe not. But let’s just focus on the moment.”

When those words leave his lips, he wonders if that is merely false hope, that there is no possible way to bring their attention away from the past. This turns out to not be the case. Every movement sets them on fire: the removal of their underwear, and the hand Felix brings to Sylvain’s member; the lips across the porcelain skin on Felix’s chest, and the gasp in response to teeth against either nipple; the warmth of each other’s lips, the beating of their hearts as they press closer, and closer still. Reaching heights which have not been possible to scale in four whole years.

Once Felix’s breaths have become sharper, and Sylvain feels the desperation inside him growing, he reaches over to the night-stand by the motel’s bed. He chuckles at Felix’s raised eyebrow when Sylvain returns with a bottle of lube and condoms. “Don’t worry,” he says. “These are my own,  _ not  _ the motel’s. I doubt they’d provide decent stuff, like that hotel we stayed in did.”

“ Huh. I almost forgot about that.” Felix lets out a snort. “Wait, is that the time you stole them?”

“ We paid for them anyway to use them! Might as well take the leftovers, you know? It was the  _ good _ stuff.”

“ Still.” Felix watches Sylvain pop the lid off the lube, a tongue lapping his lips. “While I’ve not exactly been completely absent of this …”

“ Yes?” says Sylvain, trying to not hone in on the image of Felix pleasuring himself, to instead listen.

“ I’m definitely not used to someone else doing this to me, not for some time.”

“ I know, baby. You can trust me.” Sylvain pauses as he coats his index finger in the lube. “Wait, is that fine?” he continues, kissing Felix’s neck. “Calling you baby?”

“ As corny as your influx of pet names has always been, I … missed that, honestly. Sylvain feels lips press at the top of his head. “So yeah. It’s fine.”

“ Good, because it’s a force of habit by now, and I’ve really had to hold myself back from calling you a pet name every five seconds.”

Felix chuckles, eyes closing when their lips meet again. This time, he’s guided back down on the bed, letting out a noise against Sylvain’s mouth when the latter’s other hand separates Felix’s thighs.

Goddess. He’s missed every single moment of this.

“ I’ll take it slow, okay?” Sylvain says, barely above a murmur as his index finger presses on the external muscle, outside Felix’s entrance. He nods slowly, leaning his head back against the bed, chest rising as he inhales a deep breath.

Despite his nerves, when Sylvain begins to work up a slow, steady rhythm, the tension in Felix’s legs soon begins to fade. His gasps turn into moans. And something stirs in Sylvain’s chest, realising how much he has needed to hear that sound again.

“ All right?” Sylvain asks, smiling at Felix’s nod. “Feels good?”

“ Mm. It’s good.” He breathes out, neck stretched in a beautiful arch as his head leans back. “Can … can you go faster?”

“ Of course, sweetheart.”

That name, alongside the bite of Felix’s lip to stifle a moan as Sylvain carefully increases his pace, causes both affection and misery to reach Sylvain’s chest. He remembers the first time he called Felix this. He was nineteen, Felix seventeen, and it was only as a joke, until Sylvain realised why it caused his heart to skip a beat.

Honestly. The time it took for both of them to realise Sylvain was flirting, and doing so for real, sure was something.

“ You don’t have to hold it back, you know.” Sylvain grins over Felix biting his lip again, a hint of a moan escaping through his teeth. “I’ve missed hearing that.”

“ We’re in … in a motel, Sylvain.”

“ Yes. A place where sexual sounds aren’t uncommon.”

“ St-still. I don’t want to be overheard.”

“ Okay, okay.” Sylvain’s grin softens, when he notices Felix’s hand gripping onto the bed covers. “Want another finger?”

Felix nods. His head turns on its side, a blush dusting his cheeks. He lets out a soft cry when that second finger enters. Both hands now grip onto the covers, creasing between his fingers, and those tightly closed eyes open for a moment to meet Sylvain’s, watery and bursting with endless emotion.

Fuck. Sylvain is still in love with him.

Sylvain continues to work at Felix’s body, playing him like an instrument, never once forgetting how to bring out the most beautiful music. He’s soon ready, unable to hold back his moans quite as much. Every single motion ignites something in Sylvain. Turning Felix over so he’s on his stomach, the lips pressed to his shoulders, the bowed head when Sylvain’s erection, now covered and lubricated, slides between his ass cheeks.

Everything. He doesn’t want any of it to leave him, not again.

“ Ready, moonlight?” he whispers. Felix nods, Sylvain drawing a line of kisses down his spine as he guides his erection to Felix’s entrance. A gasp, soft whine, and Sylvain thinks it might genuinely drive him crazy.

This is made no less true by the moan Felix releases when Sylvain slips inside, nor by how he finally has the courage to say, “P-please, go faster—” once minutes have passed. He’s trembling, and Sylvain is sure that he is as well. It’s overwhelming. Almost as though this is the first time they have laid with each other.

But it’s all in the best way possible.

Sylvain picks up his pace, earning a louder moan from Felix. “Fuck, Sylvain!” he cries out, and Sylvain grins, having to hold himself back from reminding Felix that he didn’t want to let others hear him, regardless if they are in a motel or not.

“ Want … want you to feel good, Felix,” Sylvain says instead, groaning at how  _ wonderful  _ it feels to be inside Felix again. “I’ve missed this, missed you, and I …”

He swallows, unable to find the courage to continue his words, but perhaps they are better left unsaid for now. He wants to focus on those sounds. Pants, moans, occasional whines of Sylvain’s name. All of it.

Felix finding his release before long is hardly a surprise. Sylvain himself is a little faster than usual, when he ejaculates his load into the condom. His body presses closer to Felix’s as he slows himself to a stop and pulls out, lips kissing practically everywhere they can reach.

“ Fuck,” Felix is the first to speak. “You’ve … you’ve still got it, all right.”

Sylvain grins, turning Felix over and running a hand through his hair—Sylvain cannot fully recall the moment it came loose, only remembering how beautiful it had looked sprawled out around Felix’s head. “Are you okay?”

“ More than okay. And you?”

“ Yeah. Never better.” Sylvain leans down to kiss Felix’s lips, before turning him over so he’s on his side. Sylvain, meanwhile, lies down next to him, so the two are facing each other. “Cleaning up can wait. I’ve missed this, too.”

A hum of agreement. Felix’s fingers tread lightly over Sylvain’s chest, with the slightest furrow of his eyebrows. “Not to ruin how much of a high I’m on right now,” he says. “But what happens next?”

Sylvain is silent for a moment. Fingers play with strands of dark hair, as he perceives the way Felix’s leg is resting over his. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I mean, I can’t stay here and leave Ingrid and Dimitri behind. But I also don’t want to leave you again, either.”

“ Mm. I want to stay with you, but I’ve created a life here. And the distance is long enough to make that whole thing an issue.” With his eyes closing, Felix rests his head against Sylvain’s chest. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“ I know, I know.” Sylvain’s arms loop around Felix, bringing him closer, chin resting on top of his head. “And what I want to say right now probably doesn’t help matters, either.” He waits for a moment to see if Felix will respond. When he doesn’t, Sylvain adds, “I—I still love you, Felix. Truly.”

A silence falls. Not much tension has fallen over Felix’s body, although the breaths against Sylvain’s skin have become sharper. Sylvain knows if he were to place his hand on Felix’s chest, the heart inside would also be beating faster.

Arms loop beneath Sylvain’s, Felix’s face burying into his torso. And there, instead of replying, he cries.

Properly, this time. Not merely the few tears he shed when he was telling his story. Full on sobs, however muffled he makes them, with his entire body shaking. Sylvain’s hold on him grows tighter, bringing him as close as physically possible, lips returning to the top of his head. It’s nostalgic. Sylvain remembers doing this for him in their childhood, when Felix’s mother had died. He remembers how Felix grew a little more comfortable with the idea of crying again some time into their relationship, even if he usually tried to hold it back.

Sylvain doesn’t cry. He’s unsure of the reason why this is, when his chest has tightened, his throat is sore. Perhaps all he wants to do is hold Felix as he used to. Murmuring words into his ear, tracing soft circles around and around his back.

Reminding him that no matter what the future brings, Sylvain is here now, at least. He found Felix. And, deep inside, he knows he never stopped searching.

Eventually, the shakes calm, Felix’s breaths becoming more regulated. After silent minutes pass, he says, “Would you … still want to try? Even after what I did?”

Sylvain hums, gently easing Felix away to find his face. His eyes are a little red from crying. “Was sleeping with you not an indicator that I do?”

“ I mean, sleeping with others isn’t rare for you.”

“…  Right. Fair point. Well then, yes, Felix. I do want to try again. No matter how hard trying is.” Both hands push Felix’s hair behind his ears, smiling. “I mean, you working in a random diner in Adrestia didn’t even tear me away from you. We can make it work.”

Felix finally smiles again. He doesn’t have an answer with words, but rather leans in and brushes his lips against Sylvain’s again. Soft. Gentle. The core of Felix, alongside all those sharp edges.

Yeah. They will be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to see my FE3H/NSFW art too, fanfic snippets and me crying over Sylvix, feel free to find me on Twitter @nikobynight!


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